


Black Licorice

by sinecure



Category: Community
Genre: Closet Sex, F/M, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 19:19:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinecure/pseuds/sinecure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff discovers that Annie's tights are thigh-highs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Licorice

**Author's Note:**

> **Rating:** NC-17... R?  
>  **Word Count:** 776  
>  **Genre:** The smut genre.  
>  **Spoilers:** None  
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own Community and I make no money off of it.  
>  **A/N:** There was a [big ole kink meme](http://milady-milord.livejournal.com/770342.html) at [milady/milord](http://milady-milord.livejournal.com/) a while back. This was written for that.

It was a thing with him, Annie was realizing; Jeff really liked to touch when they made out. There'd only been the few instances, but each one fueled more fantasies than her high school boyfriend ever had. Probably because, deep down, she'd known Larry was gay, which meant he wasn't really attracted to her, which meant she was his beard.

And beards made her think of Jeff.

Jeff liked to touch, and Annie liked to over-think.

Thinking about Larry led to thinking about Jeff. Well, pretty much anything and everything led to thoughts of Jeff sometimes. There were always Six Degrees of Jeffrey Winger on her mind.

Like what'd led them to be in the supply closet, hands all over one another. Puppies and licorice had been involved, though tracing the exact path right now took up valuable time she could be using to think about how hard Jeff was, how warm he felt pressed against her. How wet he was making her.

She whimpered as one of his hands slid under her knee and lifted it up to his hip.

Damp, swollen folds, pressed tight against the bulge in his jeans, she tore her mouth from his, gasping for breath. The light in the closet was out, but she could see his shape, hear his panting breath, feel the rock of his hips.

"Jeff," she moaned, yanking desperately at his shirt, tearing it from his pants. "God, you chose today to wear layers?" Pulling his jacket free, she dropped it to the floor. Rocking her hips, holding on, pressing the heel of her foot into his ass, she clawed his stomach.

"I didn't plan on this happening, you know."

"We never do."

Hand trailing along her leg, he grasped her thigh, squeezing and hauling her closer. "Didn't wake up thinking we'd be--"

A high-pitched noise left her as he pushed her back against the wall. "More of that, less of the talking."

It was true. Neither one of them had intended for this to happen, but... there'd been a borrowed book, which led to an argument about puppies, which brought up Jeff's weird aversion to licorice, which Annie knew he secretly liked, which led to a supply closet filled with hidden packages of the candy.

She'd found him, taunted him... and they'd argued over which was better, red or black licorice. After a few minutes, she'd kissed him solely to taste the flavor of black licorice and Jeff, to prove to him that it was nothing special.

So, no, they hadn't planned it.

But, like every other time, unbelievably hot and arousing; so filled with need and longing. She could feel it in his fingers, sliding up her thigh, hear it in each grunt deep in his throat, feel the damp, sweat-covered skin pressed against--

"Holy crap."

Annie went still when he did, tearing her mouth from his to look at where his attention had fled.

"Um...." Was he disappointed at finding her in her usual tights? No, that didn't look like anything but excitement and hunger.

"Holy crap," he repeated, sliding his hand further up her thigh, taking her relatively short skirt with it, revealing the thigh-high stockings she'd put on that morning.

She hadn't foreseen this happening, but she was grateful it had on a day in which she'd put on something that made her feel sexy, something only she knew about. Leaning her head back, she nibbled at his ear. "Like what you see?"

"Uh, yeah," he husked out, eyes sliding to hers, then back to the top of the stockings where his thumb was rubbing both skin and material. He leaned down, lips hovering over hers, hand sliding to her ass, then back to the stockings as if they were too fascinating not to look at and touch. "I had no idea these were under here--" he rucked her skirt up, then rubbed her damp panties, "all this time."

A deep-throated moan left her.

Settling her hand on his cock, which was still housed in denim, she rubbed him roughly. "I wear them... all the time, Jeff. Sometimes, when I'm getting ready for school, I wear nothing but stockings, panties, and a bra."

"Holy crap." His breath was hot by her ear as he grunted. The hand caressing her breasts moved back down to stroke her leg, while the other continued to press on her clit. Continued to rub.

"You're repeating yourself, Jeff." She licked her lips, rising on tiptoe to get closer, hand flat against his stomach. "I own a pair of red heels."

He shuddered against her, his whole body quivering. "Annie trumps black licorice any day."


End file.
